Codename: Awkward Positions
by YYG
Summary: Zoro loves Sanji, he really does. But can't curlique sleep in his own bed for once? SanZo, Warning: swearing
1. Chapter 1

Me: I thought this idea was funny after posting such a dramatic drag like Can I Go One More Night.

Mid: We own nothing, not even a crumb of Wan Pisu T-T

The Oddly Fluent Chef

Ever since the Sunny's swordsman and blonde chef realized their constant petty fights and useless competitions were just subliminal signs and cover-ups for their actual repressed feelings, Zoro and Sanji's relationship, both date-wise and nakama-wise, had gotten considerably better. They still loved to physically fight, brutally insult, and bet against all odds that one was better than the other, but small and hardly noticeable changes were there. Whenever Sanji served dinner, Zoro still wasn't first to receive his plate, but the platter was set down more tenderly than before, and the cook would flash a smug grin and ruffle his marimo locks. While washing dishes, Sanji would occasionally keep a firm grip on the wet plate he passed on to the other so that their hands would brushed together when Zoro reached out to take it. Sanji still flirted with the girls, but the former "Nami-swaaans" and "Robin-chwaaans" were impressively dimmed down to Nami-san and Robin-chan. The swordsman didn't think it was possible, but he also didn't think that he's be dating the curly-browed bastard, so who was he to speak about possibilities?

Zoro set down his weights with a loud clank of metal colliding with the wood. He always trained after dinner, as well as breakfast and lunch. The moon was clearly visible through the crow's nest windows, shinning its silver light across the floor. Zoro sat in that square of light, though it wasn't intentional. Thinking about his and the cook's relationship differences distracted him too much; he lost count of how many sit-ups he's done. Thinking about Sanji in general gave him a fuzzy yet warm sensation in his stomach, which, at first, made him nauseous. Hell, that feeling was so constant he barely paid any attention to it anymore. Once he asked Chopper about it, and the reindeer asked him if there were any specific times when he felt it. Of course he replied, "Whenever I see, hear, or touch the shit-cook." Chopper only laughed knowingly.

It pissed Zoro off that the doctor just let him worry on about something as trivial as love; Robin's choice of word, not his. Though if he had to name that wonderful, giddy, comforting feeling, love would probably fit perfectly. Denying that Zoro didn't feel all kinds of happy and pride when he helped or did something nice for Sanji would be useless, pretty much because it showed on his face.

The door to the lookout opened with no trace of hesitation, only meaning that it was the blonde chef. Anyone else would have knocked, not wanting to disturb Zoro when he was in serious mode. As for Sanji, he came in whenever he wanted to. He didn't give a damn about any mode the swordsman was in. "Oi, Marimo," the smooth voice Zoro had gotten so accustom to attracted his attention immediately. He'd even go as far as saying that it was addictive, like a special brand of nicotine.

"What is it, Mr. Interrogative?"

Sanji chuckled softly. Nothing Zoro said pissed him off like it used to. "Time for bed."

"I go to bed when I want to," Zoro stated matter-of-factly.

"No you don't. You have as much control over your sleeping patterns as Ace does, and I'm not gonna suffer with a bitchy ball of algae tomorrow. If you're not in bed in ten seconds, I'll _make_ you sleep."

The swordsman sighed, startling an unexpected yawn to slip out. He stood and headed for the door; Sanji was deathly serious about his threat. Zoro could get a tiny bit grouchy when he missed one of his daily naps. The two exhausted men leisurely made their way below deck to the men's quarters, yawning ever so often. In times like these, Zoro was glad as hell that they had mattresses instead of their old hammocks. Sanji rarely slept in his own bed, claiming to prefer Zoro's instead. The swordsman had no problem about sharing with the cook. and he certainly wasn't complaining about the extra body heat on cold nights. But Zoro was a light sleeper, so the slightest shift in the ocean could wake him.

And Sanji was the fucking jumping bean in the jar of limas. For reasons unknown to Zoro. the cook moved a lot in his sleep. If being around Sanji didn't feel so damn good, he'd have his bed all to himself. His lonely bed. His lonely, _cold_ bed. Zoro sighed inwardly. Okay, Sanji would be with him regardless, whether in his bed or the cook's.

XVX

Loud snores echoed around the room, which Zoro trained himself to ignore. What he couldn't ignore were the damn toes in his ear. Sanji lay directly on top of him upside down, and top half stopping at Zoro's crotch. His legs were being hugged together by strangling strong arms, immobilizing them and all means of changing positions. The cook's own legs were on either side of Zoro's head; their flexibility seemingly more lithe when Sanji slept. The frustrated swordsman groaned quietly as said toes' nails jabbed his temple.

He's tried on many nights to wake the cook up, but all attempts proved to be a failure. Zoro pushed him on the floor one night, and to his surprise, Sanji absent-mindedly stood up and flopped his dead weight down on his unsuspecting chest.

A small sound voiced from the back of Sanji's throat as he turned over on Zoro, freeing his legs but causing a heel to slammed into his mouth for a split second. Clearly not amused, Zoro gently grabbed those leg nuisances and placed them on one side and one side _only _of his abused head. Sanji's body twisted inhumanly, but Zoro could care less at the moment. He needed sleep.

"Mm, Zoro," the blonde mumbled.

Did he finally jolt himself awake? About damn time it happened. "Yeah?" Zoro answered.

"Dance with me, Papi." Sanji's voice strangely had taken on an accent.

"...Huh?"

"Sí, sí, mover los pies así, Zoro. Lo estás haciendo bien, nena." Was Sanji speaking Spanish to him? What the hell? So many questions needed to be answered, but the swordsman was positive that the cook was still knocked out on account of the light snores. The restless legs had some sort of spasm as they repeatedly connected with Zoro's windpipe, choking him until he properly sat up.

"Shit," he wheezed, holding his bruised throat. Damn squirmy curly-brow; what the hell was he dreaming so aggressively about? Whatever it was, it had to be stopped. Zoro was sick of almost dying by random flails of limbs almost every night, but telling the cook that could end up hurting his feelings, which the swordsman forbade himself from ever doing. Zoro shifted onto his side as best as he could. He made up his mind. He _would_ get Sanji into his own damn bed tomorrow, one way or another. Just so long as neither of those ways involved confronting Sanji directly about it.

Me: For those who aren't familiar with Spanish Sanji said "Yes, yes, move your feet like that, Zoro. You're doing fine, babe." Lol


	2. Chapter 2

Me: To Guest, I imagine a marimo frowning with bushy eyebrows. ^-^ Bushy like Rock Lee.

Pink Dust isn't Always Magical

The next morning on the Sunny was not Zoro's easiest start of the day. Sanji usually beat everyone out of bed in order to prepare breakfast, but the swordsman found the slightly beaming cook hugging his waist snugly as soon as he opened his eyes. Of course Zoro questioned why he was still in bed which, in retrospect, would have been better to just let him be. But this was not the case since Zoro _had_ to fucking ask it out of curiosity. What the blonde said nearly tore his heart out right then and there for having such despicable thoughts the night before. "_I love sharing a bed with you, Marimo. I always had to sleep alone at the Baratie. It's nice to know I have someone to wake up next to._" Zoro groaned unintentionally, causing the blonde to give him a quizzical look, but disregarded it.

Not to mention the small doctor commented on Sanji's improved posture and energy at breakfast. The chef smoked his cigarette calmly through a genuine smile, giving the credit to a certain fluffy marimo pillow aloud. The crew laughed good-heartedly, except for Zoro, who was feeling a tad guilty. He was helping Sanji so much by just sharing a bed with him, and he couldn't endure it because of a few measly kicks and slaps?

Zoro was torn between getting a good night's sleep or helping the one he loved. Well, no doubt he would pick Sanji over himself, but what about him? He didn't know how much longer he could go without sleeping properly; hopefully Chopper could give him something strong enough to knock out an elephant. Or maybe a dinosaur.

There he stood, outside of the infirmary, furiously debating with himself. Little did he know, Zoro was mumbling as he processed his options, tapping his boots practically into the floorboards. The door in front of him opened, though he didn't notice, and Chopper looked up at the swordsman with concern. "Zoro? What's wrong?! Are you hurt?! IS ANYONE HURT UP THERE?"

The squeaky voice startled Zoro out of his thoughts and he looked at the hysterical reindeer. Damn, he hadn't made a conclusion yet. Winging it seemed like the only solution. "Uh, I need some pills," he stated, hoping that his terrible lying ability wouldn't give anything away. Chopper raised a visible eyebrow as his ear twitched, "Pills? Zoro, I can't give you pills just because you want them. Something has to be wrong."

"I can't sleep. And I haven't been for...a while," the mosshead admitted.

"A while? How long is a while?" the doctor's tone had menace to it, probably in disappointment.

"...I don't know...uh, months?"

"MONTHS?" Chopper bellowed, "Why didn't you tell me? Your body could shut down on you without getting rest!"

"I've been napping," the swordsman numbly pouted.

"How long has your naps lasted?"

"About ten minutes before I need to train or help the cook with something."

"THAT'S EVEN WORSE! YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE INTERCOURSE WHILE YOU'RE EXHAUSTED, DAMMNIT!"

The swordsman felt like there was a stove inside his mouth. He willed the damn blush to fade as he choked out, "O-Oi, who said anything about sex?!"

"I'm not a fool, Zoro," Chopper stated, "I may be a kid in everyone's eyes, but I'm still an animal. I know what sex smells like and, frankly, I'm pissed that you've done it so many times without telling me about this! You may have insomnia, and you could contract an illness!" The reindeer ranted on about how this lack of sleep was putting a damper on his health as he rummaged through his medical cabinet. Chopper retrieved a small clear bottle with pinkish powder filled to the brim. Zoro watched in silent amazement how the young doctor never ceased his ranting, not even for a breath, as he wrote something down on his clipboard and handed him the bottle.

"-or the next time I give you a check-up my otoscope will go _so_ far in your ear no surgery or hearing-aid could ever help you. Got it?"

Zoro sort of tuned out the threat, but he got the idea of it. He nodded and thanked Chopper for the medicine gratefully, making the reindeer wiggle in non-contained happiness.

XVX

"One hundred thousand five hundred sixty-seven...one hundred thousand five hundred sixty-six...no, wait," Zoro grunted in frustration as he faceplanted with the floor, his body finally giving out on him. Sighing, the swordsman forced himself to sit up, which apparently wasn't happening any time soon. He couldn't even train now, thanks to his wandering thoughts about upsetting Sanji _and_ wondering if the powder he carelessly threw on his bed would work or not. Knowing Chopper, the medicine would indeed be foolproof, but Zoro had a bad feeling in his gut. He couldn't tell from what exactly, but if he had to chance it, it was the medicine. Zoro didn't mind taking pills or liquid, so he wasn't concerned about the taste. Was it possibly the effect it might have that irked him so much? Perhaps the color of it? He never ate anything pink before, so maybe that's what was bothering him so much.

What if it didn't work? Zoro refused to speak to Sanji about it, no matter how many times he got hit in the damn face. The cook was so emotional it was ridiculous. Plus, the things he said earlier tugged at his heart-strings and made the fuzzy feeling ten times stronger. Zoro didn't want to fuck anything up just because he couldn't sleep. He'd endure it until Sanji was sick of sleeping with him, if it ever happened. And honestly, did Zoro want it to happen? He wanted the toe ear plugs to stop for sure, but the cook's presence was incredibly soothing even if he couldn't sleep. Zoro could hold whatever part of Sanji wasn't moving and watch him peacefully sleep on him. It made him feel somewhat content.

While climbing down the rigging, the smell of something burning invaded Zoro's nostrils. Fueled on fear, the swordsman jumped the rest of the way, landing hard on his feet and making his bones vibrate. Whatever was burning, it wouldn't be in the kitchen, lest Sanji gave Zoro a better reason to complain about his (secretly delicious) food. Zoro could hear Franky in the distance along with violent sounds of water, yelling something along the lines of "there it was".

Confused but not at all hesitant, the swordsman traveled below deck to the men's quarters. The burnt smell grew stronger as he opened the door slightly. Franky was wielding a giant hose and spraying water towards the beds. To Zoro's dismay and shock, the force of the water shot a bed straight through the Sunny's wall and into the ocean.

_His_ bed.

"Oi..." Zoro growled.

Franky glanced over his shoulder and quickly shut off the hose. He grinned nervously at the fuming swordsman as he scratched his large forearms. "Ehehehe, Zoro-bro! H-H-how you doing?"

"What happened down here?"

"...Well, your bed was on fire."

"I kind of fucking figured or else we would have had a problem with you blowing my damn mattress out to sea. How the hell did it get set on fire?"

The cyborg held up the bottle Chopper gave him, but it was empty, charred and the top was blown off. Zoro gave a puzzled look at it before he frowned. What the hell happened to it? Franky tossed it to him, which he caught on impulse. "Uh, the powder did this...?" Zoro concluded.

Franky nodded, "Usopp-bro's been looking for that. I don't know how it got in here, though. It's his new invention. The powder is full of RDX and gun powder, so all you need to do is shake the bottle before it explodes. I really don't know what it's doing in here..."

Gun powder? Zoro's eyes widened in utter terror. "So, what if it was digested?"

"Digested? Uh, the toxin would cause the body to go into shock; possibly poison someone. Why?"

_Well, fuck. I almost died_, Zoro thought. How the hell did _that_ end up in Chopper's medical cabinet? Franky left the room after all questions were confirmed, leaving the swordsman to wallow in his former bed spot. He would have been poisoned...and now he has no place to sleep. And now there's a giant hole in the ship letting a cold draft in. Franky would fix it before the day was over, but that didn't solve his mattress problem. Where could he possibly...?

_Oh, fuck_, Zoro groaned. His eyes darted over to the cook's bed, untouched for months, looking almost brand new. There was no other choice. He literally _had_ to sleep with Sanji. Unless he settled for the rowdy captain, but no man in his right mind would bunk with Luffy. Mainly because the boy would try to eat you in place of meat. Zoro ran a hand over his face in defeat. Maybe Sanji would act differently in his own bed?


	3. Chapter 3

Revenge Doesn't Have to be Given Cold. Sometimes it's Quite Warm

Sanji sucked on his nicotine-filled stick of joy as he leaned against the ice-cold railing. He focussed on his cigarette instead of the bastard he hovered over. Eventually, he glanced down at the crop of moss and sighed. "Okay, what is your question, you big baby?"

"I wanted to know why you're so good at speaking Spanish," the first mate replied with interest.

"Span...ish? The hell are you talking about? I don't know a lick of it," Sanji answered, Zoro's eyebrows receding into his hairline apparently going unnoticed. Wow, what the hell did Sanji dream about to make him unaware that he knew a whole new language?

"Well, all random thoughts out of the way, come to bed."

"No."

"C'mon I'm sure it's already two hours after midnight."

"No."

"Are you tired?" Sanji annoyingly quipped.

"Yes."

"Then come to bed, idiot!"

"No."

"Why are you acting so damn stubborn?" Sanji spat, throwing the cigarette filter overboard. Zoro sat against the railing with closed eyes, listening to the cook's complaints. Sanji must really not want to sleep alone, considering his reaction when Zoro announced he'd be sleeping outside. Yes, the swordsman couldn't think of anything else other than camping on the deck, and he didn't think Sanji would try to convince him into bed so hard. Zoro already set the blankets and pillow by the mast, as it was a few hours after dinner. He was very sleepy, but the idea of sleeping out in the open for more than fifteen minutes didn't sound too promising.

"I'm not stubborn," Zoro defended.

"Then why won't you just come to bed, shitty mosshead?"

"I just wanna camp. I've...lost touch with...nature."

"I'm pretty sure sleeping outside, on a ship, in the middle of the fucking sea isn't going to help regain your touch. You suck at lying, so tell me your real reason. Do you...not like sharing?" Sanji guessed. Almost immediately, Zoro quickly sprung to his feet and gathered the blankets and pillow, wrapping them up in a bundle before grabbing the confused cook's wrist. Hell no, it was best to avoid that topic all together. The swordsman guided him to the men's quarters and, as Zoro expected, the huge gaping hole was boarded up like it was never there. Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper were snoozing loudly, each mumbling about things Zoro didn't try to decifer. Sanji took his own hand back once they entered. He couldn't figure out what the damn marimo's problem was suddenly, dragging him barbarically like that.

The swordsman plopped down on the mattress and absently got comfortable as Sanji watched him. After a moment of silent irritation of being stared at, Zoro growled lowly in a whisper while scooting over, "Are you gonna fucking sleep standing up like some damn flamingo?"

The cook rubbed vigorously at his eyes to snap himself out of whatever unknown trance he was entangled in. His suit jacket was casually removed, followed by his orange dress shirt and dress pants. He joined Zoro and pulled the blanket over their bodies, capturing Zoro's waist with one arm lovingly as he nuzzled the smooth back of the other. Of course, it started out like this every night; loving, gentle, and fucking organized. Somewhere along the hours of the night, during the shifting and sleeptalk, Sanji ended up in the opposite direction carelessly sprawled out. The first mate mentally prepared himself for this new night of violent foot battles.

Many minutes passed before Zoro noticed that Sanji hadn't began moving like a maniac or snoring. He kept perfectly still in case the blonde was on the verge of drifting off or not. Suddenly, Zoro felt extremely hot breath between his shoulder blades as Sanji's low voice spoke. "Oi, Zoro. I can't sleep. Are you awake?"

The overly loud snore he made was complete instinct on when he wanted someone to leave him alone while he napped outside. Zoro felt the chef sigh in disappointment as the arm around him tightened. He faintly wondered why Sanji couldn't sleep, but those sympathetic thoughts were soon cast aside by a clever idea, and a broad shit eating grin.

Zoro kept his eyes shut as he groaned, throwing a dead weighted arm over the blonde's face. Sanji winced and growled, but otherwise let the limb be. Next the swordsman turned over entirely, laying on top of the other and knocking the breath out of him. While Sanji gasped for air and attempted to roll him off, Zoro changed positions again without much thought. He was letting his body do what it felt right doing. Now, he was completely flat on his back directly across Sanji's stomach, his bottom half and top half limply hanging. Having about 150 pounds on only your stomach is bound to motivate you to claw your way from under.

"Fuck, Marimo, _shit_. Y-you're going on a diet," the blonde wheezed. Zoro mumbled something even he didn't understand as he moved towards Sanji's legs, turning the same way Sanji did when his toes wanted to pay a visit. He wrapped his arms around the blonde's weapons and squeezed them together tightly while nuzzling Sanji's knees. Zoro knew the cook was protective about his lower body, which was exactly why he lightly bit the side of his calf. Sanji jolted instantly while Zoro let a degrading "Yummy~" slip out for good measure.

It seems like Sanji was in his shoes now; the cook not wanting to interrupt his sleep and endure all the awkwardness and torture Zoro put him through. The swordsman forced his foot to brush across Sanji's nose roughly while twisting his upper body in a secretly painful way, but he played it off with another snore.

"OW! Just what the fuck are you dreaming about?" Sanji said mostly to himself. On cue, Zoro slipped his big toe into the other's ear, earning an irritated and quiet inward groan. He smirked lightly, deciding to make this moment goddamn hilarious than it already was. He raised Sanji's flexible leg with his head and settled under the back of his knee. The cook's shin rest on his far shoulder without any resistence whatsoever.

"Mm, Sanji," Zoro muttered, a huge grin of smug satisfaction glowing on his lips.

The cook replied half-heartedly, probably thinking the swordsman was sleeptalking, "Yeah?"

"Dance with me, Papi."

"...the hell?"

XVX

Luffy excitedly demanded his usual serving of sausage the next morning while Usopp and Franky had to defend their plates from grubby hands. Zoro was quite satisfied to see how his plan turned out, but so far Sanji had been avoiding all contact with him. The swordsman was starting to think Sanji was sick of him for some reason, and ignoring him was the best way to end it all. That thought made the warm fuzzy feeling inside his stomach ache if it was possible. Would the cook really stoop to that level? Zoro doubted it, but the fear didn't fade. He reassured himself that the blonde wasn't that inconsiderate countless times, but the ache only intensified.

As soon as breakfast was finished, Sanji gathered the plates crowding the table and set them in the sink. Zoro hadn't left his seat yet, and the cook didn't even glance at him. No insult, no nickname, no snide demands that he help wash. Nothing. Finally, the pressure and unbearable tension was too much for the first mate to take. He willed his voice to be steady as he spoke, "Cook...?"

Sanji didn't look back, "What."

"What's wrong?"

A deep and unpleasant sigh later, Sanji continued washing the dish in his hands. "I just...realized something stupid, is all."

"Stupid as in...?"

"As in something that shouldn't make me feel the way I've been feeling lately. The past few months, I've been having this...odd dream over and over again. And it's pretty clear that you know somewhat about it considering how bad you faked last night to probably get back at me. I just didn't know that I moved around like that and talked. You and I, were on a random island with decorations and music, dancing as the sun sets on the horizon, and the crew is having a blast somewhere in the distance, but in my head it's only us. I'm teaching you how to Salsa dance and we all...party for hours on end. Then we finally fall alseep together on the beach, having our privacy away from everyone and just sleep in each other's hold. When we dance in my dream, when we laugh and drink in reality, hell, even when we bitch and complain it makes me so happy that I can't explain it. It's like a...it's like a..."

_Warm fuzzy feeling_, Zoro thought with a smile.

"Exactly," the cook confirmed, telling the swordsman that he accidentally said that aloud, "And that feeling makes me all giddy and hopeful whenever we share one bed. It's almost as if apart of that dream...came true." Sanji chuckled with little humor contained in it, putting away the plate he's been washing for ages. "Listen to me, getting all sappy over a damn marimo. You must think I'm clingy. If you want to start sleeping alone again, I can-"

The galley door shut. Sanji glanced at the table to find an empty slid out chair.

The cook continued to wash dishes in silence, his mind free of thoughts. That warm fuzzy sensation he got whenever Zoro was around was completely gone. How could the bastard just leave when Sanji was telling him about his embarrassing dream? It's not like it was easy to say how happy the shit swordsman made him, especially with his stubborn pride. Fuck Zoro; if he wanted to be an insensitive jerk about it, Sanji'd let him.

As the last bowl was put away, the galley door opened and closed once more. Sanji didn't have to look back, he could hear the boots colliding with the floorboards. The steps neared closer, and the blonde felt a bit of anger seeped into his body. How could Zoro leave and just come back like nothing happened? Tanned arms wrapped around his neck from behind, and he stiffened slightly. He was definitely _not_ in the mood to be touched. The swordsman must have noticed, considering the immediate "What's the matter?"

"You shitty bastard," the blonde growled, much to Zoro's surprise, "How could you just leave the room like that? I'm telling you all this personal shit, and you abruptly leave the room to-"

"Help your dream," the first mate finished, feeling smug at the other's sudden quietness.

"Wh-huh?"

"I told Nami that she didn't need to buy me another bed at the next island so we could keep sharing. Oh, I'm such a shitty bastard indee-Mmpf!" Sanji's soft lips pressed hard against his own, cutting him off rather rudely but it was welcomed with open arms.

That night, a certain blonde's rowdiness was gone, giving Zoro a perfect night of uninterrupted sleep. Turns out sleeping with Sanji isn't so bad when he has embraced the warm fuzzy feeling.


End file.
